The Couch
by jane0904
Summary: Picking a plot bunny from badkarma00's excellent JAYNE COBB'S GUIDE TO THE MARRIED MAN, here a little tale for everyone to read. Short and sweet.


Mal stood still, mouth open, shaking his head and wondering what had just happened. There they were, talking as usual, and she'd asked a question, he'd answered, and suddenly he was outside the bunk, no boots, and being told … no, _shouted _at … that he wasn't required for the rest of the night. Or ever. Then she'd thrown a pillow and blanket up to him and slammed the hatch shut.

The sound was still ringing through Serenity.

His head still vibrating, he carried the bed accoutrements down the stairs towards the common area, playing back the words, the intonations, and trying to make some kinda sense of it. He'd reached the deck by the infirmary and still hadn't when he noticed he wasn't alone.

"You too?" Jayne said, plumping the pillow on the old sofa.

"River toss you out?" Mal asked.

"Yeah."

"Know why?"

"Not a clue."

"Me neither." Mal dropped into the chair. "You laid your claim to the couch?"

"I have." Jayne shook out the blanket and tucked it in along the back of the cushions. "Why, you considering throwing your captainy weight around and tryin' to make me give it up?"

"No, no," Mal said quickly, as if he hadn't been thinking that at all. "Just wondering."

"Not that I'm gonna get much sleep tonight," Jayne admitted. "Damn thing's got more lumps'n your gravy."

"I'm captain," Mal pointed out. "As such I never said my cooking was any good."

"Shoulda hired a cook."

"Yeah. Instead of a mercenary," he added pointedly.

"Then you'd be dead and I'd be working for seven percent." Jayne sat down. "You sure you ain't got no idea why you've been thrown out of your conjugal nest?"

"Jayne, I told you. Stop reading dictionaries. And no, I don't. I can't even remember what we were talking about, let alone how it got to be a fight."

"Ah." The big man nodded. "No. 5."

"What?"

"No. 5."

Mal shook his head. "No. Still lost me."

Jayne tugged a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. "Here."

Mal looked at it suspiciously. "What's this?"

"Ain't gonna bite ya. Just … aw, hell." He tossed it into Mal's lap.

"If this is a love letter –"

"It ain't." Jayne pulled his boots off. Apparently _his_ argument had begun before he'd started getting undressed. "It's my rules."

"Your … rules?" Mal lifted his eyebrows.

"Yeah. Marital rules."

"And you're giving these to me … why?" For a long, hideous moment Mal had a mental image of Jayne down on one knee proposing to him, only for that to happen they'd both have to be sly. And it would be bigamous anyway, on both sides.

Maybe Jayne was catching being a psychic, because the look on his face switched to disgust. "Ain't like that, Mal. You know that." He nodded towards the paper. "These are just my rules for a happy marriage."

"Happy marriage."

"Yeah."

"You've got rules on how to have a happy marriage."

"Surely do."

"That you wrote."

"That I did."

"Yourself."

"Mal, it ain't like I never picked up a pencil before. I've written."

"To your Ma, yeah. Thanking her for the hat and socks and the like." Mal picked up the sheet in his lap between the thumb and finger of one hand. "Never thought I'd see the day you wrote something 'cause you wanted to."

"Well, I did. And I'm thinking maybe you should read it. Take some of my well-considered advice."

Mal looked sharply at him, but there didn't appear to be anything other than honest concern in the big man's face. "Me. Take advice. From you."

Jayne sat back. "You know, for a man who claims to be intelligent, you ain't doing so well in this marriage lark. So maybe you should read it 'fore you turn all high and mighty on me."

"Maybe I should," Mal admitted. "And I'm sorry for suggesting you don't have the brains of an ant."

"Ants are smart," Jayne said, suspecting no sarcasm. "Build them great domes, thousands of 'em all living together. Might be small, but they're strong."

"You're right, they are." Mal opened the sheet and began to read, piecing the words together from among Jayne's somewhat flamboyant approach to spelling. His eyes got wider as he went. Eventually he got to the bottom, his mouth slightly open. "Well, that's … surprising," he managed to say.

Jayne looked smug. "No. 5, right?"

Mal checked. "Uh, yeah. I think that'd be about the one."

"Did figure on making it more than twenty, but I figure that just about covers it. I mean, it's mostly about River, but I think your little woman'd come under it too."

"I thought it said not to call her that."

Jayne beamed, like the other man had just answered a very difficult question correctly in front of the whole class. "No. 17. See, you've got it." Mal went to hand it back, but Jayne shook his head. "Nah, you keep it. I got other copies."

"I … thanks." Mal folded it carefully and slid it into his pocket.

"You're welcome." Jayne yawned hugely and stretched, his joints popping, and allowing his own personal perfume to fill the room. "Now, I'm gonna get some shuteye, since we got that job tomorrow."

Mal nodded. "Should be smooth. Badger's info should –" A cough stopped him in mid-word and he looked up. His wife was standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed like a shield in front of her breasts. "Hi, _xin gan_."

She glared at him. "Are you coming to bed or not?"

"I didn't think I was wanted. You seemed to …" Jayne caught his eye, and he saw the big man mouth '_Rule 13_.' Quickly scrabbling through what he could remember of the list, Mal finally came up with, "I'd like to."

Her face relaxed, and she uncrossed her arms. "Come on, then," she said, holding out her hand.

In a moment he was on his feet, up the stairs and slipping his fingers into hers. Without even a backward glance, they disappeared around the corner.

River floated in through the door from the cargo bay, her bare feet making no noise on the metal decking. "I thought he was never going to go," she said, coming to join her husband on the couch.

"Me neither." Jayne grinned, lifting her up so she was on his lap.

"Did you give it to him?"

"Course."

"Did he read it?"

"There and then."

River smiled. "Good boy."

"Ain't a boy, moonbrain."

She snuggled closer. "Wasn't talking about you." Sighing happily, she looked up into his blue eyes. "Is it going to do any good?"

Jayne shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe." His brows drew together. "How come they fight so much? Thought they were so much in love with each other –" His mouth made a small moue of distaste. "– that they couldn't keep their hands to themselves?"

"Not their hands that are the problem."

"Oh?"

River closed her eyes the better to feel her husband's heart beating in his chest. "Hormones," she said succinctly.

"You mean …"

"Little Reynolds."

"A kid?"

"Two."

"You saying there's twins?" He glanced towards the stairs where the couple had disappeared. "That why she's all –"

"Doesn't know. And that's a whole new list of rules."

He chuckled. "Ain't you gonna tell 'em?"

"Mal will make her see Simon in the morning. After she's thrown up again." She began to purr.

"Hey, you going to sleep?"

"No. Just comfortable."

He stood up, River securely held in his arms. "Well, don't get too comfy. Now your grand plan's been achieved, I intend sleeping in my own bed tonight."

She opened one eye and smiled at him. "Sleeping?"

"'ventually." He laughed throatily, and strode towards their shuttle.


End file.
